DISCLAIMER: None of the characters mentioned are mine but everything else is.
Right. Things have been happening since last I served up some o' this for y'all, things I won't go into detail about now, but I am back and this is an update. To those of you who reviewed last time and are still reading you have to know by now how much I appreciate you – the replies, the swooning Author Notes thanking you again again again, the waffling about how wonderful you all are at any given opportunity – but in case you're in doubt, I do love you and appreciate you all immensely. I couldn't be prouder or more inspired when I read some of the amazing feedback you've given me over time, and I hope I can continue to please. To those of you who are reading and choose not to review – and I know you're out there, statistics don't lie in this case and I've seen all your Alert mails so I know who you all are (except the anonymous non-alerting lurkers) – you are missing out on the love and affection showered upon my faithful reviewers and if you want a piece of it, delurk and let me know why you're following this fic and what you want from it or just what you feel I've done for you so far. To my Larky and my punkin' pie – they know who they are – you are so special and speaking to you has helped me write this in so many ways all through the process so thank you so very much and stay awesome. The rest of you are just as dear to me and I hope you're all still safe and well and ready to tell me how badly I suck if that's the case XD
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Who Knew?
Part 6
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He was rather rudely awoken by someone shaking him roughly by the shoulders. Thinking for a moment that he was dreaming, he swatted at them, was slapped sharply across the face, which induced the powers of hearing, and tuned in to what sounded awfully like a mixture of –
" – Christ, ya can' jus' hit him lahke that!"
"He knows what he's doing honey, calm down."
"Will ya bloody wake up ya daft bugger?!" Remy's eyes snapped open at the first coherent trace of the once so familiar brogue assaulting his ears, and was met by the sight of one St. John Allerdyce, the purveyor of hard awakenings, hands firmly attached to Remy's coat-front. Behind him, a serene Wanda was restraining a half-heartedly worried Rogue. The lights were dim, but not unpleasantly so.
"An' here we go," John said happily, letting go of Remy who was dropped back into the armchair in which he now realised he'd been asleep with some force, and standing back a little to look at him.
"Bloody hell mate – ya look terrible," he accused, and Remy sat up slowly, brushing his errant bangs out of his eyes and looking at his long-lost friend with some apprehension.
"...'m not well, mon ami," he explained hesitantly, still confused as to how the Aussie even came to be there, and John scowled at him.
"I know that, my only question is why the 'ell I had ta hear it from this lot!" he said, sounding almost hurt, and Wanda smiled, clearly amused.
"He missed you, Cajun," she said with apparent disregard for her – her what? Lover's? Husband's? – injured look at her, and Remy looked her up and down.
"Y' get married or sometin' while I was away, pyrophore?" he asked John, and the Aussie smirked in a way that told him more than he thought comfortable knowing when not fully awake yet.
"Workin' on that part," he said quietly in a sideways manner, and Remy closed his eyes briefly in recognition of his friend's wish to keep certain cards from certain players for now.
"What de hell y' both doin' here?" he asked instead, and Rogue crossed her arms and tossed her hair, but with a smile that told him she wasn't angry so much as amused at the way they'd made him aware of their presence.
"They crashed chocolate-tahme an' Storm let 'em stay as long as they didn' disturb you – she went ta bed a while ago an' Ah guess this is what the kids get up to when Mom's away," she mock-huffed, and Wanda – giggled? John's head whipped round to observe the strange occurrence, and Wanda ceased her giggling and gave him an unmistakably sultry look. The Aussie straightened his back and turned back to Remy with a decidedly odd look on his own face, and Remy once again had to decide to overlook this new level of weird they'd apparently obtained in his extended absence.
"Crashin' choc'late tahme? Y' kids got no shame?" he teased, and John shrugged.
"I was told there'd be cookies. Ya know I can' resist a good cookie," he excused himself, and Rogue rolled her eyes.
"Can' resist a tough cookie either," she mocked, and Wanda laughed raucously, John nodding his acquiescence to Rogue's statement.
"Only the one, Sheila, only the one," he specified, and Rogue shrugged.
"Get me up," Remy demanded, and John grabbed him just over the wrist and pulled him up easily, Remy staggering a bit. Rogue was instantly by his side, steadying him and taking his hand as she did so, and he smiled down at her gratefully.
"Ya go on a diet or somethin'?" John mocked good-naturedly, and Remy shrugged, noting how Wanda had taken the chance to curl herself around John's arm, to all intents and purposes looking like a natural extension of his person.
"Nah, jus' had a li'l power surge, notin' major," Remy said offhandedly, and Rogue rolled her eyes at Wanda again.
"Ah swear ta Gawd, ya're all a bunch o' little boys posturin' lahke that – Remy you're sick as a dog an' ya know it," she said sternly, and Remy let his head hang a little.
"Je sais, ma chere..." he said meekly, and she nodded.
"Don't ya forget it either." Wanda gave Rogue a significant look and then pulled away from John, putting an arm around her Southern friend and leading her away with the words,
"You and me need to catch up, sweetheart..." Once the girls were safely out of the room, Remy let his eyes meet John's.
"How ya been?" the Aussie asked sincerely, and Remy shrugged.
"Dyin', mos'ly... Rogue's been savin' my ass," he admitted, and John nodded slowly.
"She rang Wanda," he said.
"Told 'er?"
"Ev'rythin'. Those Sheilas stick t'gether like ya wouldn' believe. Wanda told me ya were up here – said it looked bad. Had ta come make sure they were doin' righ' by ya." Remy shifted.
"Guess it didn' look dat bad... Ma Tante rang de Institute, asked dem t' take me before I died or blew up de state..." John's smile was wry, but not unsympathetic.
"New powers or jus' enhanced?"
"Enhanced. Organic material, now." John shook his head.
"Jesus fuckin' Chris'mas..." he exhaled, and Remy looked him square in the eyes.
"De fuzzy blue elf? Rogue almos' blew dat boy t' Kingdome Come 'cause o' my powers," he said quietly, and John winced.
"Ya know that ain' your fault, mate. Righ'? She chose ta help ya. Wanda told me she had doubts after some acciden' but I had no idea it was anythin' like that..."
"Dat girl nearly killed her frere 'cause o' me, Johnny. An' she's still here, helpin' moi." John grinned at Remy's doomsday tone and reached out, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Well no worries! I've nearly killed Wanda's ol' man an her brother more times n' I'm countin' ta, an' she ain' left me yet - course, can' say I'd stick aroun' f' your skinny Cajun arse, mate, but there ain' no accountin' f' taste I s'pose!" he laughed, and Remy cracked a smile.
"Guess I ain' los' de charm, hein?"
"Guess not, mate..."
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"So how are things between you?" Wanda's eyes were nothing if not compassionate, and the hand she held in hers was bare but for the soft blue glow of the Witch's powers. Rogue was infinitely grateful to her friend for the simple gesture. It meant so much to her that Wanda would bother to concentrate her gifts into being able to touch the Southern Belle, but Wanda didn't even mention it, so Rogue never did either after the initial surprise of finding out that the Witch could do it. Right now, her touch was even more than just a simple gesture of her presence; she was effectively 'recharging' Rogue with her pretty blue sparks, and to an exhausted Rogue, it felt every bit like the magic John claimed it was.
"Aw hell, Ah don' know!" she expelled with all the pouty frustration of any teenage girl.
"You don't know?"
"Ah mean Ah don' know what to think, Wanda – Ah mean, we're together all the tahme, he's sleepin' most of the tahme anyway, an' when he is awake he wants ta talk about the past an' Ah jus' don't wanna do that," Rogue said quickly, sounding petulant and tired, and Wanda squeezed her hand gently.
"Honey, he's going through a serious power surge, the sleeping part's normal – you remember John practically hibernated? I had to hex him to stop him burning the damn house down when he had a dream," the Witch snorted, and Rogue tittered at the memories.
"Like some goddamn dragon or something," Wanda added, and Rogue grinned at her.
"Ah guess – John was awful. Acted lahke a five year old," she recalled, and Wanda sighed.
"When is he not five years old?"
"True... But really, all this talkin' about the old days an' all that, Ah jus' don' wanna get into it. It's done, it's buried, it's over," she said firmly, and Wanda shrugged.
"Just because we think a topic's cold in its grave does not mean guys have forgotten about it honey," she said, and Rogue shrugged.
"Ah keep fergettin' ya live with a bunch of 'em."
"You get used to hexing the kitchen before you go in," Wanda said, dismissive,
"But he wants to talk about the past? What parts?"
"Well, he feels bad about leavin' us back then and he wants meh ta understand that he didn' wanna go an' a bunch of other shit... Ah'm too tahred ta deal with his repentance thang. I jus' need a good naght's sleep, ya know?" Wanda chewed her bottom lip for a second, then smiled.
"I think I can help you there, honey. Let Wanda take care of it, okay?"
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"I guess y' been doin' pretty good since I lef' y, hein?" he asked softly, and the Aussie shrugged, grinning.
"Been doin' alrigh'. Had a little power surge of me own – must 'a been a while back now – an' I got through that okay." Remy raised an eyebrow.
"How many times did y' set de house on fire?" he asked seriously, and John appeared to do some private calculations.
"Thir'y... six? No, I'm fibbin' – sixty-three. Not countin' all the times I set fire ta random people on the street, Wanda's brother, the one-eyed wanker, an' the curtains in the livin' room," he said finally, and Remy shook his head.
"At leas' y' got dat red-eyed bastard," he sighed, and John smirked.
"More n' once. All them uniforms... gone forever... Got his Sheila's hair once too – my Wanda was in convulsions for hours afterwards..." he sounded dreamy at the reminiscence of how he had managed to render Jean page-boy'ed and whimpering as the Scarlet Witch laughed herself into next year.
"Bald?" Remy had to know, and John sighed.
"Sadly, no, but I sheared off most a' the blasted stuff – she accepted it when she decided the little bob made 'er look more grown-up an' less like some Disney slag," he said cheerily, and Remy laughed.
"An' did it?"
"Hell no – she looks like 'ell an' 'er Cyclist won' quit whinin' abou' how he really wen' for 'er 'cause of the 'air!" They shared a laugh at the implications of a mournful Scooter flipping through old photos of the Ariel-stand-in his woman had once been and trying to shield his thoughts so she wouldn't catch on just how disappointed he was that she'd lost a major part of her sex-appeal where he was concerned.
"Course, me an' Wanda have been keepin' Rogue busy, makin' sure she wasn' there ta be his shoulder ta cry on. Daft wanker made a drunk pass at her las' year an' Wanda had ta wipe his mem'ry." At Remy's questioning look, he explained,
"She's got a much better hold on 'er powers these days. There's just abou' no limits ta what she can do." Remy nodded.
"When y' said all dat time ago dat y' were gon' try an' get de Scarlet Witch t' marry y', I t'ought y'd gone insane f' real, y' know," he admitted, and John shrugged.
"Ev'ryone always says that..." he mused.
"She's a fantastic girl. I still want ta marry 'er," he said wistfully, and Remy smiled.
"Looks like de petite friponne migh' jus' say oui," he encouraged, and the Aussie laughed.
"Las' time I mentioned it she landed me in hospital mate – don' think I'm goin' there again for a while!"
"Mon Dieu! L'hôpital? Y' sure y' okay wit' dat? Why'd she do dat?" the Cajun was scandalised, and the effect deepened when his friend just chuckled at the look on his face.
"Look, Rem', Wanda's a really... passionate person – it's why we get on the way we do – an' she's got a lot o' hang-ups abou' fam'ly an' that. They'll never go away, an' she's tryin' really hard ta control them, but sometimes when she gets angry or upset, her control slips. A lot like mine does when I'm... you know... Anyhow, the point is, that if I spring somethin' like that on her, chances are she'll put me through a window again withou' really meanin' to, an' I hate it when she feels guilty," he said reasonably, and Remy sputtered.
"Elle jeta tu par la fenêtre?!"
"A second story window, no less," John agreed, and Remy raked a hand through his hair.
"Merde..."
"He was fine," Wanda's voice rang out, somehow still managing to sound soft and darkly amused,
"Just a few cuts and bruises, a dislocated shoulder – nothing a few blue sparks couldn't fix... Speaking of which, I'm tucking you in tonight, Cajun." She was standing in the doorway, back straight for all she looked relaxed, and a little smile playing about her red lips.
"Que?" Remy first had to process the fact that a dislocated shoulder was 'nothing', and the bomb that was the idea of her 'tucking him in was truly a disturbing thought.
"Ah, how about I make sure he gets down there pet, and you can go an' make sure Rogue knows we're leavin'?" John suggested, but she shook her head.
"I've already put Rogue to bed, I promised I'd help him sleep tonight," she held up a hand that glowed a faint, inviting blue, and held it out to Remy.
"Come on, I'm not going to throw you out of the window," she laughed, and the nervous Cajun approached her and held out his hand, which she took and held firmly, murmuring a few foreign words, and he felt himself grow very light, and weary.
"Coming, John?" she asked quietly, and behind Remy the Aussie crossed the room and took the Witch by the hand that was not glowing.
"Course love. Let's be off."
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Wanda wasn't in the room as Remy changed and got into bed, John fetching her when the Cajun was safely under the covers, and she stood by the bedside and smiled down at him kindly.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she teased, and he sighed and smiled wearily.
"Y' put ma chere t' bed den?" he asked, and she nodded and bent to place two fingertips to his forehead.
"She's resting. You've taken quite a lot out of her with all this – you never should have left, you know," she said lightly, as her fingers projected a soft white light that flowed over his skin and settled into it as if it were air.
"Je sais... je regrette..." he mumbled, eyes closing, and she murmured something he could neither understand nor hear properly and then said,
"Dormons bien, tu ignorant... elle attend..."
He was out before he even had the chance to ponder who she meant.
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